


not so practiced

by nastyboy



Category: Naruto
Genre: Eventual Smut, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastyboy/pseuds/nastyboy
Summary: Iruka is only mildly surprised when he blinks his eyes open against the ache pounding behind them to find a bare face close enough to kiss. He lets his eyes trace along a soft jaw line to the cupid’s bow of thin lips with too big canines peeking out from behind them, and then up along a narrow nose to the scar crossing his eye, andoh.It’s Kakashi.





	1. I Go Out To The Bar

**Author's Note:**

> our sibling bonding activity this year is rewatching naruto, so of fucking course you can bet on me adding my own dumpster fires fics to this fandom. 
> 
> i've got three(?) more chapters written for this. the next one will be up on saturday
> 
> also please let me know if i missed any important tags??

Iruka is only mildly surprised when he blinks his eyes open against the ache pounding behind them to find a bare face close enough to kiss. He lets his eyes trace along the soft jaw line to the cupid’s bow of thin lips with too big canines peeking out from behind them, and then up along a narrow nose to the scar crossing his eye, and _oh_.

It's Kakashi. 

He still feels decidedly bereft of surprise. Something unnamed and unchecked had been building between them for too long to avoid at this point. He had somewhat seen this coming with the questions about Naruto, the teasing encounters in the mission room, and the unusual effort put into reports lately. Kakashi looks younger in his sleep, and strangely enough more exhausted as well; it makes Iruka remember that they’re barely a year apart in age. He shifts minutely, taking in the tangle of their limbs and the dried evidence along his stomach. Kakashi is a warm weight in his arms, and Iruka finds his thoughts straying to how he could get used to more of this with less alcohol involved as he relaxes into the futon. His memories of last night are unfortunately blurred; he had planned to remember when they finally stopped dancing around each other.

Some moments are returning to him as he gazes over Kakashi’s sleeping form. He remembers agreeing to go bar hopping with the other Desk workers. He remembers running into Kakashi at some place or another. He remembers an offer to help him home on Kakashi’s part, and a less than subtle invitation inside on his own. He remembers Kakashi’s lips against his own with his mask between them then without it then it’s just a dizzying haze of pleasure and pale skin and panted names. He sighs. He had been hoping his memory would be more whole.

One arm is trapped under Kakashi, surprisingly comfortable despite the tingling numbness, while his other hand is threaded in Kakashi’s thick, silvery hair. He carefully removes it, fingers trailing down Kakashi’s neck just to watch him shiver in his sleep at the ticklish caress. He brings the hand up to tame his own locks somewhat, wondering idly where his nearest hair tie might be as he turns to lie supine. He closes his eyes, breathing deep as he drags his hand down his face. Kakashi moves with him, wrapping one long leg over Iruka’s own as he keeps himself close to the other man. Iruka finds himself smiling softly at the cuddling. It’s been a while since he’s had this closeness, and, while he wouldn’t expect it from Kakashi for assumptive reasons, he lets himself enjoy it, turning his face into the pillow as his smile widens.

Kakashi’s eyes are open and watching him when Iruka opens his own again. He doesn’t jolt away like he wants to, simply tenses slightly under the unwavering stare, noting that Kakashi is bizarrely still with only the lazy swirl of the sharingan to catch Iruka’s attention. Discomfort crawls along his spine the longer Kakashi stares, and Iruka thinks to say something, but he doesn’t know what. Kakashi beats him to it anyways.

“I’m...” 

It’s murmured low and soft, and Iruka can see several different beginnings of expressions flit across Kakashi’s face. He’s almost painfully expressive without his mask and hitai-ate to hide some of the puzzle pieces. Kakashi’s left eye slides closed, and the discomfort Iruka had felt disappears. It confuses him just as much as the word does, pushes any possible responses further back on his tongue. Kakashi disentangles them with practiced movements, and Iruka suddenly needs to say something when he gathers his clothes together, but there’s still nothing for him to say. Kakashi looks awkward, standing in the middle of Iruka’s bedroom with his clothes piled in long arms and a grimace making his oddly large teeth even more obvious. Iruka wonders if those teeth, that look like they belong more in a dog’s muzzle than a human’s mouth, are the reason he wears the mask when Kakashi turns away.

Kakashi sweeps out of the room, and Iruka feels disappointment weigh him down into the futon under him. He ponders what Kakashi wanted to say. The pipes rattle in the wall as the shower is turned on in his bathroom, and an emotion too akin to hope for comfort swells in his chest. He levers himself out of the bed, fishing a fairly clean yukata off the floor to tie loosely around himself. He treks into the kitchenette of his apartment, going through the motions of preparing coffee while his mind wanders to the jounin using his shower. Iruka’s brow furrows as he tries to remember more of last night, the coffee maker quietly bubbling in the background.

By the time coffee is finished, the shower has shut off, and Iruka pours two mugs, carrying them both back to his bedroom. Kakashi is nowhere to be seen when he gets there. Instead the window is slid open, curtain haphazardly pushed aside to let autumnal air billow in. Iruka sighs because he doesn’t know what he was expecting. He chugs his own cup, setting the other one on his night table as he ignores his stinging taste buds.

Iruka feels better after his own shower. He feels clean and fresh without spunk caked on his stomach, and has decide that the unfinished sentence was nothing to worry himself. Kakashi must have known that he was going to leave after his shower, and didn’t want to do awkward goodbyes before his walk-of-shame. He must have been about to say _leaving_ , but didn’t want to start any weird morning after conversations. This conclusion doesn’t make Iruka feel any better about the way he shuts the window with more force than is necessary or the cooling mug of coffee still sitting on his night table. He ignores it and the small pit in his stomach, spending the rest of his sunday lounging around his apartment with a borrowed novel he had told Kotetsu he would start two months ago.

 

Iruka’s week is fairly uneventful until friday rolls around.

His pre-genin are a handful as usual, but a handful he’s used to. They’re rowdy with excitement after he tells them they’ll start a hands-on unit with traps the next day, but docile while he reviews the last unit. As a reward for their good behavior he takes them outside at the end of the lesson, using leftover time to exemplify one of the most simplistic traps he teaches. The student’s all crowd behind him, and he hold his arm out to keep them at bay, listening as they all hold their breath. Pause. He sends a kunai flying seemingly at nothing, but there is the tiniest twang as a line of wire is snipped. A handful of shuriken are sent flying into a tree slightly distanced from them, yet close enough for the his class to jump, and the children behind him explode into cheers. 

“That’s so cool!”

“Amazing, Iruka-sensei!”

“Wow!”

“What made it go off?!”

Among the chorus of _so cools_ the school bell is rung. The children immediately group up to walk home, still whispering excitedly about what the next class day held. Iruka belatedly calls out a dismissal and a farewell after them as they leave. A few of the children wave back at him while the others are too caught up in their own little worlds. He lets out a breath while he walks across to the tree full of shuriken. He swiftly digs them out of the bark, replacing them in the pack on his waist, and smearing a natural salve onto the divots left in the tree. He smiles at his handiwork, heading back up to his classroom promptly to pack up for his shift at the Desk.

Asuma intercepts him on his way, “Are you coming out with us tonight?”

“You know I have shift tonight. Besides—”

“No harm in asking,” Asuma asserted, and Iruka continued regardless.

“Besides, last weekend was plenty of fun for me.” 

“I’m sure it was.” He smirks, giving Iruka a short salute. “Have a good afternoon, Iruka-sensei.” Iruka’s lips purse in exasperation as he watches the jounin flicker away without another word. 

He shakes his head to himself, pondering Asuma’s teasing tone lightly as he walks to the teacher’s breakroom. He pours himself some tea, tucking in with his cup as Suzume and Aburame walk in, gossiping to each other. Suzume’s hawk like eyes settle on him immediately, Iruka barely suppresses a shudder under her attention. He watches out of his periphery as she whispers something to Aburame, who’s mouth drops open while he openly stares at Iruka. Iruka looks at them then, causing Aburame to hurriedly busy himself with preparing a cup of tea for Suzume and himself. 

“Afternoon, Suzume-sensei, Aburame-sensei. Are you doing well?” Aburame says a quiet hello, while Suzume slides into the seat across from Iruka. Her eyes sharpen at his curious tone, lips twitching into a smirk.

“I am, Iruka-sensei. You see I heard the most interesting thing this morning, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s true.” Iruka simply raises an eyebrow at her, prompting her to continue as he takes another sip of his tea.“I heard that you fucked a jounin last weekend. The copy-nin, actually. Kakashi Hatake.” Iruka prided himself on not choking at her wording. Suddenly, Asuma’s parting tease and the odd words of various other teachers throughout the week make sense, and Iruka realizes that everyone at the bar that weekend saw him leave with Kakashi, which would be _everyone_ since all the shinobi frequented the same place every weekend, The Rope and Hook. He can’t help but wonder how many of those people assumed they had slept together. 

_Well, you did sleep together, so it’s a warranted assumption,_ a voice in his head reminds him snidely. _But they don’t need to know that,_ he thinks back.

Iruka hears a poorly stifled giggle from Aburame, and knows he’s been quiet for too long to salvage his privacy. He sighs, and Suzume lets out a triumphant sounding noise. 

“Who I take home is no one’s business but my own.” He tries, but Suzume just snorts. 

“Not when you’re all over them before you even get out of the bar.” 

Iruka’s eyebrows meet his hairline, “What?” 

“Anko told me you pinned Kakashi to the door with, and I quote, surprising grace for someone who had that many shots, end quote, before attempting to get a hand down his pants.” That little voice in Iruka’s head cackles again, sounding suspiciously like Anko. A mortified flush pinks his cheeks as he vividly remembers the feeling of Kakashi’s leg hitchiing over his hip as he pinned the man to the wall, except the blurry wall in his memory cleared to look more like the tell-tale paneling inside of the Rope and Hook. Okay. It seems his invitation inside was a little more public than he originally thought. No wonder everyone’s been teasing him. He glances around, casually making sure he had everything before standing. 

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a shift at the Desk.” Suzume just gives him a look as if to say _this isn’t over_ as he deposits his teacup in the sink, escaping the room and his own embarrassment.

He arrives at the tower without further incident, taking his place besides Fuyano, a much older chunin who works almost as often as Iruka. Fuyano gives him a slow nod and a small smile, which Iruka returns as shinobi begin lining up to turn in their reports with the start of the shift. He unrolls the first report handed to him, glancing over it for less than a second before giving the jounin in front of him an unimpressed look. All of the fixes are simple, and won’t create a problem in the filing so he doesn’t bother with a full blown rant.

“Thank you for your work,” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, and the shinobi gives him an arrogant smile, turning to leave when Iruka speaks again with his tone plenty loud in the small room. “But be sure to ask my pre-genin to help you next time you attempt to write a report, I’m sure they’d be happy to help you fix your mistakes.” The jounin’s smirk falls, embarrassment flushing his cheeks just barely as he leaves even quicker, now. Iruka hears Fuyano chuckle next to him as he accepts the next report with a welcoming smile, falling easily into routine.

The next few hours pass in much the same manner with Iruka efficiently cutting down arrogant shinobi, sending some away to rewrite their reports, and reassuring those who weren’t sure if they’d done it correctly. It went as smoothly as usual, shift passing quickly until a brand new tokubetsu jounin unceremoniously dropped a something in front of him with a wet plop. Iruka’s hand twitched, and he could feel Seri and Kaki’s eyes on him from down the Desk. Fuyano just continued working, though a tiny, amused smile had wormed its way onto his face. 

“What is this?” 

“My report.” Iruka’s breath hisses out between teeth clenched in a futile attempt to keep calm. The tokujou cocks his head, smirk widening. “I would think even a chunin would know that, especially one who sees them so often since you work the mission room instead of the field.”

The room grows deadly still as the tokujou laughs, and Iruka feels his shoulders pull tight with anger. He rises slowly, and the jounin’s smile falters, his laugh fading awkwardly as Iruka’s blazing eyes are level with his own now.

“Rewrite this!”

“Why?” There’s a barely there quiver in his voice as he reflexively straightens his posture in the face of a threat.

Iruka’s hand twitches again where it’s settled on his hip, “Because it is completely soaked through with water!”

“S-so?”

That stutter is the show of weakness Iruka wanted. He carefully picks up the sodden report scroll, flinging it forward too quickly for the shinobi to catch. A flush of satisfaction cascades down Iruka’s spine as it flattens to his flak vest with a wet smack.

“ _So_ I will not accept it! Any shinobi worth a damn would understand that paperwork, as tedious as it may be, is just as important as field work. Regardless of rank, no one would believe that garbage you put on my desk was a report because actually attempting to turn in such trash is beyond disrespectful. Also, remember that even though I’m not a mission-slut like some, I am still an active and fully capable shinobi.” He raises his voice with finality, staring down the shocked jounin. He weakly glances to the other desk workers. Fuyano doesn’t even look up at him, while Kaki gives him a piteous frown, and Seri’s not even hiding her giggles behind a hand. His eyes settle on Iruka again, barely suppressing a flinch at the fury in Iruka’s glare. Iruka just hands him a blank report scroll with pen, and motions to the far corner of the room when he tries to mumble out a semblance of a response. The room watches as he politely settles with his back against the wall, shoulders hunched in embarrassment and a soaked mess of rice paper still stuck to his chest, but Iruka turns back to his work. He’s surprised to come eyes to eye with Kakashi, that warm grey sparkling with unconcealed mirth. Something strange tumbles around in his stomach at the sight of the man; the same thing he felt when he finally cleaned up the cold coffee on his nightstand; it leaves Iruka more than a bit off balance. 

“Kakashi-san, I didn’t know you were on a mission.” He narrows his eyes at the elder. 

“I wasn’t. I’m just here to see you, Iruka-sensei.”

“Are you?” Iruka blinks once, then three more times for good measure.

“Mm, I wanted to know if you were going out tonight.” 

“And why would you want to know that?” Iruka questions, beginning to mess around with some of the scrolls on the desk to portray nonchalance.

Kakashi straightens nearly imperceptibly, “Just wondering. I had such a _good_ time with you last weekend, so,” He adds the rest under his breath, sentence trailing off, and stance relaxing as he leans closer to Iruka. The amusement in Kakashi’s eye darkens into what could be nothing other than thinly veiled lust, and Iruka gets flashes of flushed shoulders, and dark marks he knows he left on pale skin. Iruka thinks back to Kakashi abruptly leaving the morning after they’d slept together, and decides to play with the other.

“I’m sure you are.” He lets his tone slip to exasperation as he rolls his eyes, motioning the chunin in line behind Kakashi to come forward. They scoot around him with as wide a birth as possible before handing their scroll over. 

Kakashi looks a bit taken aback, “Uh?” he mumbles, as Iruka assesses the scroll and thanks the chunin before motioning the next person forward. 

Iruka flickers his eyes imperceptibly to meet Kakashi's after he’s waited through five more shinobi turning in their reports. Iruka takes pity on him, freehand rapidly tapping out the signal for yes on the desk as his other hand takes another report. They lock eyes again after he deems the report acceptable, and Iruka finds himself combating a smirk when Kakashi straightens his sagging shoulders. He could feel the room’s attention still on them, clearly interested by Kakashi’s boldness and eager to see if Iruka responds, but he was sure that no one had been looking for anything unspoken. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

Kakashi’s smile turns his cheeks up and causes his eye to clench shut as he bids Iruka goodbye. Iruka watches him leave, puzzling out whether the light blush riding high on his one visible ear is a trick of the light or not. Iruka peeks around Fuyano when he hears his own name only to see Seri and Kaki’s head dipped together like they’re scheming. Iruka frowns, pointedly ignoring them as he continues his shift. His thoughts stray to Kakashi, and that subtle blush, but he shakes it out of his head in an attempt to focus on his work. Once his fellow chunin quit their obvious gossiping, Iruka is able to distract his mind from the jounin. He falls into the familiar rhythm of reading, and sorting, and ranting, working mostly on muscle memory as the afternoon wears into the night. When he glances to the clock to see less than ten minutes left in his shift, excitement springs to the forefront of his mind along with half-remembered memories of his last “date” with Kakashi.

 _I can’t remember last time very well, but I don’t think we did anything very date-like, and I doubt we will this time. I do like talking with him, even if we barely do, but that isn’t his intention for tonight at all. I don’t mind. Especially if we skip to dessert like we did last time,_ Iruka is suddenly struck by the memory of the lust in Kakashi’s eyes when he suggested dinner. _Which I’m sure we will._ Iruka is taken up by flashes of flushed bright ears and chapped lips and loud moans for an instant, but Fuyano snaps him from his thoughts with a tap to his shoulder.

“I’ll finish up here if you want to head out early.” 

“I appreciate that, Fuyano-san, but there’s no need.” Iruka cedes the A rank bin to Fuyano’s gentle hands as the elder shoots him a meaningful, exceedingly knowing look, scooping up the S rank bin on his way to the filing room. He calls a thanks at Fuyano’s retreating form, ignoring the perceptive smirk pulling his wrinkled face as he rounds the corner.


	2. Not So Good At A One Night Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next chapter for you~ it feels a bit like plot filler now that i'm rereading it, but shrug. there will be another chapter next saturday
> 
> also thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and commented and read!!

Much to Iruka’s surprised chagrin, Kakashi is leaning against the door of Iruka’s apartment when he arrives home from the Rope and Hook. He looks decidedly nonchalant with a lesser-worn copy of one of the Icha Icha novels in his hand, and Iruka lets his eyes rake over Kakashi’s form. He had thought that the jounin stood him up, but apparently Kakashi had wanted to skip the drinks? Any lingering upset drifts from Iruka’s shoulders as he stares at Kakashi. He’s all lean muscle and grace from top to bottom, Iruka knows, but he looks so lame just standing there with his baggy clothes and his messy hair and his slouched posture. As Iruka approaches, Kakashi’s stance changes. He straightens as he did in the mission room, almost unnoticeable if you aren’t watching his shoulders, but Iruka’s scrutiny catches it. Kakashi’s gaze roves over him in return as Iruka comes to stand next to him, much closer than is polite. Iruka is reasonably tipsy from his excursion at the bar, which means bashfulness is an old acquaintance that he’d rather ignore. 

The skin around Kakashi’s eye crinkles as he tucks _Icha Icha_ into the pouch on his waist, and Iruka is flabbergasted at the blatant want dilating his pupil when their gazes catch. He feels his body react, hand twitching with an aborted want to grab Kakashi, and pull him into a rough kiss that's all teeth and heat. Neither of them speak, simply watching each other in a tense silence. Iruka feels arousal and anticipation coiling in his gut the longer they wait, especially as his thoughts turn to memories of the last time Kakashi was in his home. His eyes flick down to the mask covering Kakashi’s lower face as he imagines fangs peeking over a pretty cupid’s bow and a slim lower lip.

Iruka licks his lips, “Did I keep you waiting long, Kakashi-san?” 

“Maa, I’m willing to wait when it comes to you,” 

“Are you now?” 

“Yes, Iruka.” He purrs out Iruka’s name, and Iruka doesn’t let himself react beyond the tiniest hitch of his breath as he leans forward, breath ghosting warm over Kakashi’s skin through his mask. 

Iruka’s left hand slips between Kakashi and the door, palming Kakashi’s lower back so Kakashi is forced to arch forward. The other moves to settle over the door handle. He leans closer, watching how Kakashi’s eye flutters half closed with the proximity. As Kakashi hooks a finger underneath his mask, tugging it down for a kiss, Iruka sends a soft pulse of his chakra through his fingers then turns the door handle. Iruka’s eyes glitter with glee as Kakashi’s eye snaps wide, the door giving way under his weight. Kakashi’s arms flail in small circles, knocking into a couple of the hanging plants as he stumbles backwards into Iruka’s living room.

Iruka struts past him, giggling all the while as he’s stilling the swaying of the low potted plants on his way to his kitchen. By the time he’s retrieved a decanter of sake and a set of shallow cups, Kakashi has gathered himself enough to join Iruka in the small kitchenette with only a pretty blush on his ear reminiscent of his near fall. Iruka pours them both a cup, handing Kakashi his, and watching as he downs it.

With alcohol smoothing the way, it’s easy for Iruka to fill the air with babble. The alcohol is dizzyingly effective even though he’s only sipping it, and Iruka fleetingly remembers that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He has an instant to wonder if Kakashi has eaten before Kakashi distracts him with another obviously fabricated story. They run out of sake, but neither notices as Iruka starts laughing hard enough at one of Kakashi’s stories that he nearly falls backwards. Kakashi’s hand catches his using it to tug him back up, and when Iruka opens his eyes, laughter fading into bubbly chuckles, he notices that there is less distance between them than before, his chest brushing Kakashi’s with every breath. Iruka finds he doesn’t mind much at all. 

One of them leans in to close the distance, and they meet, Kakashi’s teeth pressing soft divots into Iruka’s lips. Iruka gets heady flashes of sharp hips and harsh bites and long, long legs, and he makes a disgruntled noise, hand coming up to grip Kakashi’s chin so he can deepen the kiss. Kakashi lets him, lips dropping open wantonly as Iruka’s tongue plunges in to tangle with his own. They kiss for a while, standing flush to each other in the middle of the kitchen. When they pull back, Iruka let’s his thumb swipe over Kakashi’s damp lower lip. Warm breath puffs against Iruka’s fingertip, and he self-consciously bites his own lip when Kakashi closes his around Iruka’s thumb. Iruka allows the soft pad of his finger to prod curiously along the tips of Kakashi’s large incisors, he suppresses the want to jerk his hand back when he slices his finger on one of them. Kakashi’s gaze catches Iruka’s as he leans forward to take Iruka further into the wet heat of his mouth. 

“ _Kakashi_ ,” Iruka breathes. Kakashi’s tongue is soft and malleable as he cleans the blood pooling from Iruka’s new cut. Iruka pushes his thumb deeper, fingers cupping under Kakashi’s chin so he’s holding Kakashi’s tongue down. He can feel Kakashi whine around his thumb as his mouth drops open lewdly, saliva dripping down his chin when he tries to wiggle his tongue. Iruka removes his thumb then, his hand dragging spit messily along Kakashi’s cheek and catching his jaw again so he can crash their lips in a desperate kiss.

Iruka groans out, “Bedroom. Now.” when those teeth bite him hard, and Kakashi muffles a moan into his tongue, hands fisting in his shirt to walk him backwards down the hallway. 

 

The next morning’s hangover is somehow worse than the first, even though Iruka is sure he didn’t drink that much.

While the atmosphere is exactly as awkward with Kakashi showering and leaving before Iruka can think of anything to say, Iruka finds his memories are much more present even with the way his head throbs painfully. There are no unfinished sentences this time, but strangely enough that same uncomfortable silence with himself exists in Kakashi’s wake. Kakashi approaches him in the mission room that friday evening, as well. He’s actually got a report this time, and Iruka reads it with blatant displeasure at how late it is, hiding another promise in the ensuing rant. He feels his face still flush with anger and heat as Kakashi leaves, passing the report to Fuyano when the man asks if he’s okay.

Fuyano lets out a low whistle, re-rolling the report and slotting it into the B-rank bin, “Who waits three months to turn in a report?”

“Three whole months!” Iruka hisses. Fuyano pats his hand reassuringly as their co-workers make appalled noises. The chunin that is next in line flinches when Iruka’s gaze lands on them. He holds out his hand for their scroll, exhaling a deliberate, calming breath as he unrolls it.

 

Iruka’s lingering anger escapes him at the sight of Kakashi waiting for him that night, leaning against his door again, and looking much too cool and collected with his usual Icha Icha for how excited tension stiffens his frame as soon as he senses Iruka’s chakra. The night goes much the same as the first, though Iruka makes an effort to drink less and touch more. He wants to remember more than flickers of heated moans and wet kisses tomorrow. 

 

He awakens with a slightly more forgiving hangover.

The headache is there, but not as insistent as usual, and his tongue doesn’t feel like a wad of cotton in his mouth. Tufts of something are tickling his nose, and when he opens his eyes his vision is obscured by Kakashi’s mess of silver hair. He arches his back in a subtle stretch, attempting not disturb Kakashi where the jounin is sprawled across him, but his shuffling causes Kakashi to nuzzle and snuffle into his throat, thighs squeezing where they’re spread over Iruka’s hips. There is a moment of sleepy stillness before Kakashi sits up straight, and Iruka can’t help but stare. He watches as pale arms lift high over Kakashi’s head, stretching his torso into one long enticing curve.

His hands settle low on Iruka’s abdomen to keep himself propped against, and Iruka feels breathless as he remembers the sight of Kakashi riding him last night. He had been stunning; all power and grace, and pretty, pink skin as he took his pleasure with Iruka along for the ride. Iruka is suddenly very aware of every place where Kakashi’s body is pressed into his own, especially the weight of him seated over Iruka’s pelvis. Luckily, Kakashi decides to get up in that moment. He gives Iruka a lingering look before he treks to the bathroom, as if there are words on the tip of his tongue. Iruka stays curled up in bed, using his feet to kick the covers far enough up to grab them and pull them over his head.

He barely hears Kakashi’s footsteps as he reenters the room, but they’re definitely there. Iruka wants to peek out, wants to watch Kakashi leave, but before he can decide whether to give into the urge or not the blanket is pulled back. Kakashi’s bangs look damp, like he had splashed water over his face, and they were caught in the onslaught, but he’s still naked. Iruka freezes as Kakashi hesitates for an instant, emotions warring on his features, before he slips under the covers. He seats himself over Iruka’s hips, snuggling down against his chest like he had never gotten up. Iruka ponders whether he should try to start a conversation, but as Kakashi’s breathing settles into the steady rhythm of sleep, he decides against it. 

Iruka still can’t find anything to say when Kakashi leaves later, but he doesn’t feel like he needs to.

 

They fall into a routine of sorts over the next several months. A little hidden flirting, a little alcohol, a lotta sex, repeat. Iruka has figured out the perfect amount of alcohol to be fun without impairing his memory too much the next day, the need to say something each morning after has dissipated as Kakashi begins staying curled up with him for longer and longer moments. They only get more comfortable in the nest of Iruka’s apartment as weeks pass. Everything outside of his apartment stays mostly the same, though Iruka finds it harder to keep his casual affections to himself. They haven’t set any rules, per se, but Iruka doesn’t want to ruin this by revealing their game to the public eye. Until Kakashi says or does differently, Iruka’s hands will stay firmly to himself outside of the safety bubble of his home. 

Then Iruka takes more hours at the mission desk, and their routine changes.

There is exponentially less drinking and unfortunately less sex, and when they do make time for each other it has turned into this soft, tender thing where they shower, cuddle and fall asleep together of their own volition. Kakashi grants him more sneaky kisses and casual touches and affectionate glances around Konoha, but always carefully hidden away from prying eyes. It becomes routine for Kakashi to hang out at Iruka’s apartment all day while Iruka works, and to spend time with him on Sunday’s when he’s off. It becomes routine for Kakashi to sneak into the school to bring him lunch, since he nearly always forgets, and to offer a soft-spoken welcome home instead of the empty echo Iruka is used to when he gets home after a shift. It becomes routine for them to have dinners together, and they become more of an us than a me and you. It’s more like dating, and less like fucking, and keeping to himself becomes ten times as difficult when his immediate thought upon seeing Kakashi in the mission room is to kiss him soft as clouds on the heels of a tender be safe before he leaves. It’s scary how attached he’s become, how he had become so used to Kakashi in his life, how Kakashi has rooted himself in Iruka’s everything.

There are times when Iruka is staring at Kakashi’s bare face, slack with pleasure or pliable with sleep or stuffed with Iruka’s cooking, that he wonders if they are getting a bit close to a real relationship, especially since Kakashi sleeps over most nights, and they cook meals together, and Kakashi waters his plants, and Kakashi’s ninken have bowls and beds around the apartment, and all the other little things that don’t matter until they add up. Iruka knows that he is bursting at the seams with mushy, disgusting emotions, but he ignores them in favor of keeping what they already have. Iruka doesn’t want to lose Kakashi, and he absolutely won’t let it be because his feelings interfere with what they’ve already got going for them. Iruka sloughs the squishiness off his heart, and buries it deep enough that it won’t ever see the light of day just as he had been taught. He’s a shinobi, it’s easy.

At least, it’s easy until it’s not. 

 

It’s late, so late that even the moon is eerily dim with exhaustion, when a familiar pulse of chakra at his window makes Iruka sit up in bed. He’s on his feet in an instant, silently striding across the room as Kakashi climbs in. Relief courses through Iruka’s body at the sight of the jounin after weeks without him, forcing his previous inability to sleep to the side. Iruka watches Kakashi limp forward a few fumbling steps, concern rising for his lover. He doesn’t stare at the porcelain mask or the tattoo or the ANBU blacks, just curbs his surprise into something manageable as he approaches because Kakashi has _trusted_ him with this. Kakashi doesn’t look up, even when Iruka is standing in front of him, and he must be able to see Iruka’s bare feet with how close they are.

“Kakashi?” Iruka’s concern grows as Kakashi stays looking at the floor. He telegraphs his movements carefully, remembering his practical training for handling mentally unstable shinobi. It somewhat works, and somewhat doesn’t. Kakashi finally looks up, but it’s only after he’s snatched Iruka’s wrists in bruising grips. Iruka hisses in pain, “I am _not_ an enemy. Let me go, Kakashi.”

Iruka wiggles, but Kakashi won’t loosen his hold. He tilts his head to look into Kakashi’s face. The mask is perched on the side of Kakashi’s head, leaving his face open, but the man before Iruka doesn’t need it anyway. His face is so blank that Iruka feels he’s staring at a stranger. He squirms when Kakashi meets his eyes, the sharingan spinning steadily, and discomfort dribbling along Iruka’s spine. It’s obvious that Kakashi is well past the last legs of his chakra with the imperceptibly quiver of exhaustion in his body; Iruka knows that the pull of the sharingan has to be beyond painful now. 

“Close your eye before you pass out!” Iruka dons his sternest tone, the one he uses with ignorant brats who were never taught how to listen, and Kakashi jerks in the slightest shock before his left snaps shut. He lessens his grips and leans back. Iruka shakes Kakashi’s loosened hold off his wrists, stretching them quickly. Iruka cautiously pulls Kakashi’s mask from it’s skewed place on his forehead, tossing it to land on his futon with an airy thud, then pulls Kakashi’s hitai-ate down to cover his left eye. Iruka huffs a deep breath, watching as Kakashi catches up with his surroundings, his visible eye blinking rapidly. His gaze roves over the chunin as he exhales a measured breath. His eyes halt on Iruka’s face, narrowing then widening in quick succession. His posture tenses up all over again.

Iruka frowns as he watches Kakashi’s harden, lips thinning into a barely there slit. He waits for Kakashi to say something, but it never comes. Iruka turns away with a worried exhale, heading into the bathroom to fish his medkit from under the sink. Kakashi is sitting on the futon when Iruka returns, his posture is rigid, and hands limp around the mask now on his lap. There is light spilling out from the bathroom, and Iruka can make out the blood staining Kakashi’s clothes. His brow furrows in concern as he kneels in front of Kakashi, who’s gaze skips up to lock onto him. There’s something like dawning realization lighting his grey eye, and Iruka smiles reassuringly, tamping down his confusion at the emotion, his hand coming up to cup the jounin’s cheek. Kakashi flinches away before he can make contact, hand snapping up to grab Iruka’s wrist. Iruka clenches his teeth against the crushingly tight grip, glaring at Kakashi.

“Kakashi,” He chides, exasperation slipping into his tone and his eyes. Kakashi’s features blank into ice, cold and void of the anything besides agitation.

“I don’t need your help.” Kakashi spits, voice like cold steel. “And I don’t want your _concern_.” 

Iruka is floored, his jaw stiffening with a mixture of anger and disbelief. His eyes lock with Kakashi, and he searches them, searches for some sort of explanation. He couldn’t have meant that. There must be a reason. He doesn’t find anything except a flat agitation tightening the skin around his eye and twisting his thin lips in a frown. Iruka’s face flushes in anger, his mouth closing with a sharp clack. 

“What is wrong with you!?” Iruka erupts. He tosses the medkit down, jerking his other hand to try to get out of Kakashi’s clasp, though it’s a useless effort. Iruka glares at the hand then Kakashi, frustration clear in the pull of his shoulders. “I want to help. I care about you, and I’m just trying to—” Kakashi interrupts him before he can start on a tirade, his voice quiet and near emotionless.

“I should’ve known better than to expect a _chunin_ to control their emotions.”

Iruka’s eyes are molten fury as he bristles, “You—”

“You’re too attached. I’m tired of you.” 

The anger is rushing out of Iruka all at once as his breath punches out of his gut. The heat of his eyes is gone, and he’s left gasping to hold back tears as his shoulders sag, and his free hand slumps into his lap. He stops fighting against Kakashi’s strong hold. 

His words drop lifeless from his tongue when he speaks,“Then why did you come _here_ , Kakashi?”

Instead of responding, Kakashi releases his hand, pushing off the wall to stand. His steps are utterly silent as he tracks back to the window. Iruka doesn’t watch him go, his eyes are glued to the bruise already forming on his wrist, yet he finds himself longing for Kakashi before he is even fully out of the window. He barely holds himself together until Kakashi’s chakra has faded from his senses before he collapses forward. His body aches wholly with bright twinges coming from his wrists as he leans forward on them. His heart is in his throat, and he can’t breath with the way his chest is constricting. He finally hiccups out a harsh sob as his arms crumple under him, and the dams behind his eyes break under the weight of his upset, tears streak hot down his face as his body trembles. 

The window is still sitting open, night air blowing in on the breeze to make Iruka shiver. He tucks his arms to his chest, trembling in an exhausted, heartbroken ball on the chilled floor. He shakes harder as he remembers the heat of kissing Kakashi against his door, all clumsy hands and slick tongue while he uses a pulse of chakra to unlock the wards; he yearns for that again. That was easy. Plain old sex is uncomplicated. Everything about them was then, but now he’s fucked up.The chaste kisses and gentle hands and soft goodnights had tricked him, and now it’s over because Kakashi decided not to deal with him. He fucked up, and Kakashi left, and it hurts because it’s _over_.


	3. Would You Still Love Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember that eventual smut tag, yeah this is that chapter. it's a lot more... emotional than i planned, but oh well, shrug.
> 
> also if you don't wanna read the smut i put asterisks around it, so you can just read the beginning and the ending of the chapter.
> 
> next saturdaaaaaaaaaay, probs last chapter

It’s been a month and a half since Kakashi dumped him, and Iruka feels like a living wound, blistered and gaping and vulnerable. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the jounin, but he thinks it’s for the best since he’s not sure if he would be able to keep it together if he did. He nearly burst into tears in the middle of the mission room when Genma teased him about his lover being home from his latest mission. Anko had been surprised to see his expression fall so quickly into near tears, and promptly escorted him to the faculty bathroom. Iruka did cry then, incoherently mumbling into the abdomen of Anko’s mesh bodysuit from his seat on the toilet. When he gathered himself enough to stop sobbing, Anko patiently cleaned up his face, and sent him home with a promise that his shift would be covered for the rest of the evening. 

Iruka didn’t know what he was going to do when he got home. He wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, and knew that no matter how tired he was feeling his hurt would plague him with insomnia, as it had every other night this month. He sighed, placing both hands on the door, and slumping into it. His hitai-ate meets the door with a soft clang, and Iruka just breaths as he stands there. 

It isn’t until there’s a noticeable chill with the setting sun that Iruka actually pulses his chakra into the doors to unlock them. A pale, gloved hand catches his elbow as he moves to turn the knob, and Iruka starts. He whirls around, immediately defensive because this can’t be affecting him so much that he doesn’t notice someone approach. Upset swells in him at the sight of one half lidded grey eye, and he realizes that Kakashi’s chakra signature brushing against his feels so natural, like slow tides caressing sun-kissed sand that he hadn’t registered it. Iruka swallows around a knot of unshed tears in his throat, averting his gaze. The hand on his elbow tightens, and he suppresses a cringe. 

“Look at me, please.”

Iruka thinks himself proficient in reading Kakashi’s tones at this point. He’s heard Kakashi when he’s worried he’ll cum too fast if Iruka doesn’t hurry up, when he’s dying to get Iruka wrapped around him, when he’s too lazy to be more than a pillow princess, when he’s missed Iruka after a long mission, when he wants to cuddle more than anything, when he doesn’t want to leave Iruka’s bed, when he needs help cooking. But, this is something entirely new.

It’s private and heartbroken and _raw_ in a way that scares just as much as it soothes. It sounds like the hurt Iruka has been feeling so keenly during this lonesome month, and it draws Iruka’s eyes up to meet Kakashi’s, pulls him forward until the space between them is thin. His mask is already tugged around his neck, and his mouth turned with a sorrowful twist. Iruka feels breathless, looking into Kakashi’s face after so long. A soft pleading noise is pulled out of his throat against his will. Kakashi echoes the noise, pulling it up at the end in desperation, and Iruka wonders what this is, what they’re doing here.

Iruka tugs Kakashi to him. One arm comes up over Iruka’s shoulders, his ponytail tugging harshly when it gets trapped between his nape and Kakashi’s forearm, but he ignores it in favor of wrapping around Kakashi in return. It’s too easy for Iruka to press in close and get carried away in Kakashi, his hands gripping Kakashi’s trim waist like he’ll never get to hold him again. They stay embraced, so closely that there’s not even a hair’s breadth between them. Iruka wants to talk, but he can’t help his need to taste Kakashi again after so long when he pulls back. Their lips mesh easily, familiar in the physicality yet unique in the emotion behind it. Iruka feels the longing in his chest squeeze tight, and pop into bittersweet glee at getting lost in Kakashi’s bites and licks all over again. He sinks his teeth into Kakashi’s lower lip in an attempt to muffle an angered sob. Kakashi’s mouth gasps open at the spark of pain, so Iruka continues to plunder it, ignoring the hot, frustrated tears he can feel trailing down his own face. Iruka bites until Kakashi tries to pull back, until he can taste blood on his lips.

They break apart panting. Iruka politely pulls back, giving Kakashi space to breath, but Kakashi’s hands cling to him, fingers digging into Iruka’s elbow and shoulder until he moves closer again, and even when they’re chest to chest again it’s like Iruka isn’t close enough. Iruka meets Kakashi’s eye again, and he finds something hesitant and tumultuous staring back at him. Kakashi isn’t looking him in the eye, his eye is boring into the dark line of Iruka’s scar. Calloused fingers come up to brush over his cheeks, and it occurs to Iruka that he’s still crying, tears sluggishly leaking from his eyes. Kakashi’s brows furrow, and the uncertainty in steely grey grows.

“I’m… I—”

Doubt creeps further into a grey eye, and he makes an endlessly frustrated noise. Kakashi huffs, smashing their lips together as words fail him. Iruka’s chest heaves as his face scrunches up, tears flowing faster and fatter, now. He can understand at least some of what Kakashi is feeling; wanting to communicate, to say something, _anything_ , but not being able to. Iruka presses their foreheads together, parting their lips so he can mouth wordlessly, trying to will proper speech into being, but he doesn’t know what to say. Even if he did, he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to trust his voice. Iruka buries his nose against Kakashi’s cheek, reaching back to open the door to his apartment. They’ve barely toed their shoes off before Kakashi is joining their lips again, arm around Iruka’s shoulders tightening, free hand cupping his face. The kiss grows frantic, Kakashi pressing forward until there’s no room for air between them, as if he’s trying to combine them into one through sheer pressure. Iruka thinks, if they could, he would let him. 

Kakashi retreats, and a dam behind his lips breaks, his voice is low and frenzied, “I didn’t— I couldn’t— I didn’t _mean_ it. Any of it. It was a lie— I— I’m— ” His lips purse into a frown, his jaw tightening with upset just before he presses close to Iruka, rejoining their lips effortlessly.

*

They keep close as they meander down the hall towards Iruka’s bedroom, joined at their hands and their hips and their mouths with Kakashi murmuring into the air whenever they separate for more than an instant. They stay that way until Iruka pushes Kakashi away to strip him of his vest and shirt, just inside the door of his bedroom. The clothing is gone with a quick zip and a pull. Kakashi’s chest is scarred and lean and muscled, and Iruka can’t help the way he stares at a sight he dearly missed when he’s supposed to be taking off his own clothes. There are wisps of moonlight pouring through Iruka’s balcony doors, lighting them with soft, stark shadows that make old scar tissue look twice as jagged and bumpy as Kakashi moves in to rid Iruka of his shirt and vest. Iruka sinks to his knees after his torso is bare, helping Kakashi undo his leg bindings quickly, and cupping his calves appreciatively when he finishes.

Kakashi’s mostly silent now, only the occasion whisper of a whimper from his lips between heaving breaths. He’s gazing down at Iruka in awe, still clutching Iruka’s clothing in his hands. Iruka just watches him, leaning forward to chaste a kiss against his lower abdomen, just above his pant line. Iruka hooks his fingers over that line, leaving more kisses over his twitching abdomen while he tugs pants over the jut of his hip bones, pooling around his feet as they fall. Iruka cups a hand under Kakashi’s swollen cock as it bobs in the air, pressing kisses along the side. He suckles a bead of precum from the tip to savour the moan that tumbles from thin, pink, kiss-bitten lips. He leans forward to encase the head with a sucking kiss, and Kakashi’s abdomen heaves under his palm.

A moan rings into the room as Iruka starts bobbing his head shallowly, and Kakashi’s hands weave into his hair to pull him off before he looses the sense of mind to. Iruka parts from Kakashi’s dick with one last long lick, letting the plump head sit on his tongue. His lips curve in a grin, and he sees Kakashi’s lips part, amazement swirling in his eye. Iruka abruptly stands to lead him to the bed, guiding Kakashi with short, sweet pecks. He walks them backwards until he can fall back onto the mattress. Iruka lays back, pressing his foot into Kakashi’s abdomen. Kakashi takes the lead, dutifully undoing Iruka’s wrappings, and pressing lingering kisses along his ankles and calves as they’re revealed. Iruka lets himself feel cherished for a moment, willingly forgetting that his face is still messy with tear tracks and flushed with anger caused by the man in front of him.

Kakashi watches him in a haze, as if he won’t get another chance to look. Iruka pushes his pants to slide down his legs, spreading them as he tosses his pants to the side. Kakashi’s lips part further as he takes an awed breath at the sight. Iruka looks too good, all brown skin mellowed under streaks of subdued moonlight. Kakashi’s hand comes up to clumsily lift his hitai-ate off his sharingan. Both eyes dart over Iruka’s form, hastily taking in as much as possible of the sight before him. Kakashi falls fully onto the bed, and Iruka lifts his hands to brace him. Their hands lace together tightly as their lips and tongues meet comfortably. Their chests brush as their hands release each other to grope elsewhere.

Iruka keeps himself arched up off the mattress, one hand holding Kakashi’s neck possessively while the other slides down the curve of his back. He settles his hand into the dip of Kakashi’s spine, tickling his fingers along the round of Kakashi’s ass. Kakashi reaches blindly for the nightstand on the far side of the bed, until he can get a hand in to grab the lube. He painstakingly opens it with one hand, unwilling to remove his other from where it’s wrapped under Iruka’s shoulder. Kakashi separates their lips with a touch of their foreheads as he slides one finger, then two, into Iruka, their noses brushing lightly. Iruka bites his lip, but he doesn’t tell him to stop or slow down, just basks as the pain gives way to pleasure. His hands come up to cradle Kakashi’s face, and his eyes close as he catches his breath against the feeling of being stretched open .

“Kakashi, come on. I— I want you.” Kakashi presses his fingers deeper into Iruka, moaning when he sinks in a third and fourth finger with no trouble. It makes Iruka’s breath stutter out on a moan when he strokes all four digits along his walls. “Come on, _please_.”

Kakashi’s breath hisses out against Iruka’s lips in a warm puff, eyes shutting incredibly tight. Iruka worries for a moment that something’s wrong, but then Kakashi is sitting straight, and lifting Iruka’s hips into his lap. He sinks in, and Iruka’s breath leaves him all at once because it feels better than he remembers. Iruka stares up at ceiling with wide eyes, shuddering with pleasure at how good being full feels. Neither of them move for a long moment, waiting for Iruka to adjust so he doesn’t squeeze as chokingly around Kakashi.

When Kakashi finally starts to roll his hips a quivering sets into his legs like he’s already about to cum, and his moans all taper into needy whimpers like he’s trying so hard not to. It’s gorgeous to watch from Iruka’s angle. He can see the smooth line of Kakashi’s neck as he throws his head back, and the flush on his shoulders cascading down his chest as he fucks deeper into Iruka. Iruka naws his bottom lip as Kakashi’s hands grip his thighs, pushing them up and out. Kakashi lets out a sweet sound when Iruka clenches around him, the angle pressing him impossibly deeper in the best way. It’s unspoken that this won’t last long.

Iruka wraps a hand over Kakashi’s nape, fingertips digging bruises into the skin there. Kakashi’s hands slide to his waist then up to curl under his shoulders. Kakashi bends over Iruka so he can shove his face into the curve of his neck and shoulder, breath puffing over brown skin in gasps. Iruka slips his free arm over Kakashi’s waist. They’re presses skin to skin from their hips to their shoulders now. Iruka uses his grip to tilt Kakashi into a kiss while Kakashi uses what leverage he has to rock against Iruka. Iruka moves with him, but his thrusts are full and deep in a way that short circuits Iruka’s brain. It must be affecting Kakashi, too, because he stops trying to kiss, instead just panting against Iruka’s mouth and murmuring out frantic words against his lips. 

“Iruka, Iru— Iruka. Closer— please— I want— you. Want you— need you closer— need _you_ , need you, needyou,” Kakashi’s just mumbling that same phrase over and over, sounding like he’s two seconds from breaking down, now. 

Iruka presses one hand to Kakashi’s chest and one to his cheek, separating them so their eyes can meet. “Kakashi. Kakashi. You have me. I promise you have me, just as I have you.” Iruka insists. He thinks that these words mean too much for this moment, especially as tears begin to leak from Kakashi’s eyes. Panic rears its ugly head, but then Kakashi’s lips are twisting is a wavering, genuine smile, and Iruka feels breathless with hurt and relief and so, so much ire.

Kakashi marries their lips, teeth catching on Iruka’s lip with a sharp spike of pain. Iruka brushes their tongues together to deepen the kiss, hooking his ankles into the backs of Kakashi’s thighs to encourage a change in pace. He can feel his orgasm building as he tucks his face against Kakashi’s cheek, clenching tight around him when he quickens his thrusts. Kakashi wiggles a hand between them to wrap around Iruka’s slippery cock. He paces his hand to the rhythm of his hips, gripping Iruka relentlessly tight as he fucks him. In an instant, Iruka is tensing up, squeezing near painfully tight around Kakashi as his fingers dig into his neck and cheek, his teeth dig into a spot just under Kakashi’s jaw, and he spills messily between them. He tilts their heads together, arching as he rides his climax out with Kakashi fucking him harshly through it.

Kakashi is always quiet as he cums, and this time is no different. His words are mostly inaudible, but Iruka can feel the _I love you_ when it pours unbidden from Kakashi, exhaled against the skin just below Iruka’s ear, as Kakashi tumbles over the edge, and spills into him. Iruka wants to melt into mush as Kakashi keeps rolling his hips through their orgasms, sending lovely shocks of nigh oversensitivity through his body, but his brain is stuck. When Kakashi eventually pulls out and sits back, cum leaking lazily after his cock as he lays himself comfortably against Iruka’s side. He hides his face in Iruka’s neck, and Iruka can’t tell if the wetness against his shoulder is tears or sweat. Iruka is still stilted on those words. He lets his head press back into his pillow, staring at the ceiling because _Kakashi loves him?_ He wonders if he should bring it up, but decides to ignore it for now, lying them both down on their sides to cuddle close instead. Kakashi muffles an appreciative noise into his collarbone.

*

Iruka is lightly dozing when Kakashi starts to untangle their limbs. He doesn’t leave the bed, just sits on the edge of it, legs crossed and head in his hands. Iruka lays there for a moment, trying in vain to figure out what the jounin is thinking. Iruka watches him, a breathy, quiet _I love you_ echoing through his head. He decides it’s better to ask.

“Did you mean it?” It’s not what he meant to say, but it’s certainly something. Kakashi doesn’t reply for a long moment, and Iruka entertains the thought of clarifying, but then he sighs, shoulders slumping. Iruka pushes himself up, scooching so he can drape his arm over Kakashi’s waist and his chin over his shoulder.

“I— yes. I'm—” Kakashi’s voice is lower, low enough that Iruka wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t moved closer. Before Iruka can decipher his own thoughts to reply Kakashi is out of his arms and pulling on his pants. “I’ve got to go or I’m gonna be late meeting my squad.”

“They’ll be more surprised if you’re on time.” Kakashi’s answering laugh is tinged with nervousness, but he stops rushing so much to get all of his clothes back on. He leaves his flak jacket unzipped, gathering his leg wrappings into a ball as Iruka stands from the bed, hand coming up to tug his hair tie completely out of his hair. He uses a wayward towel to clean the semen off of his stomach then pulls Kakashi close for a tight hug. After a moment Kakashi returns the hug, arm coming around Iruka’s shoulders, and face pressing into his hair. 

Iruka breaks the silence, “We’re not okay. We need to talk about… us. And our feelings and stuff.”

“I want to but I actually do have a mission to go on.” Kakashi replies, words mumbled apologetically into his hair, though he doesn’t try to move away. 

“How long will you be gone?”

“Mm, a week, at most.”

“Come back to me?” Kakashi’s face is a an endearing mix of reverence and fear when Iruka tilts his head back to look at him. Iruka leans into Kakashi, placing a chaste smooch on his lips then walking passed him to the bathroom.

“I will.” 

Iruka allows himself a tiny smile as he hears the window open and shut.


	4. Finger In A Fist Like You Might Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm working a winter guard competition from 7 in the morning to 9 at night tomorrow, so here's the last chapter a day early instead of a day late. this chapter a little longer than the other because there's an epilogue of sorts at the end that wasn't enough to warrant it's own chapter. 
> 
> enjoy~

It’s not Kakashi’s first mission since they slept together, but it is the first with Iruka knowing that Kakashi is still an active member of ANBU. Kakashi didn’t mention the mission rank, but Iruka finds out later, through the chatty jounin in the mission room, that it’s his usual A rank so there isn’t any need to worry. But, Iruka can picture Kakashi’s mask, made to look like a hound. He thinks of how Asuma would always complain that mission ranks don’t mean shit, that A ranks can be just as dangerous. His clearance to read and file S ranked mission reports tells him that isn’t true, but he can’t help how his mind focused on the fact that as often as he marks the reports with _mission completed_ , he’s still marking them with _immediate hospitalization required_ , and even _deceased_ , on occasion. Not to mention the sex; the not-so-typical, weirdly emotional, Kakashi said I love you sex.

His thoughts keep him choked up with escalating amounts worry as a week passes, then two, then three. He starts wandering aimlessly around Konoha to work off his restless energy, to distract his thoughts from the fact that Kakashi said a week at most, and they passed a week a while ago.

It’s midday, and he’s just arrived home with his lunch. He took a walk to get takeout in an attempt to distract himself from Kakashi’s absence, but there is nothing to distract him now that he’s settled at his kitchen table. His thoughts stray quickly to Kakashi, as they are wont to do, while he offhandedly stirs his ramen, nibbling at the pork slices every so often. He gets through the third bite before he’s too nauseated with concern to eat more. He settles further into his chair, watching as the steam curling from his food dissipates while he thinks. He sighs, turning his eyes to the ceiling. Kakashi loves him.

Kakashi _loves_ him? 

Iruka knows he’s not surprised to hear Kakashi say it because no one is infallible in the face of emotions, but he’s surprised that it happened so quickly. Iruka is well aware that his own feelings fester into something substantial in an alarmingly short amount of time, but Kakashi? He never would’ve guessed. 

_Maybe, it’s because of you,_ that Anko voice says in his head, _Maybe, he’s fallen this quickly because he’s falling for you._

Iruka thinks of how their chakras exist so naturally together. A stormy sea against a rocky shore. He focuses on that image, and he almost thinks he can feel it, the prickly wash of Kakashi’s electric signature against his.

Iruka snaps to attention when his mind hones in on that feeling. It’s a thin, yet constant ripple of chakra growing closer, and he futilely crushes down the hope speeding his already fast heart rate as he jumps to his feet. He races to the mouth of the hallway, rushing to the window. Iruka yanks it open seconds before a body comes gracelessly tumbling into it. It’s Kakashi. He climbs through the sill, and instantly collapses, but Iruka is there to catch him as his legs give out. Iruka gently lowers to the ground with him, face pulled in a grimace at the sticky, caked feeling of drying blood under his hands. He feels panic slowly squeezing around his gut. He swallows pointedly, ignoring the feeling, and focussing on Kakashi.

“Hey.” Kakashi’s voice is the barest croak as if he hadn’t had water in days. His sharingan eye is firmly shut but his other eye has fluttered open to fixate sloppily on Iruka. His shoulders shake like he’s trying to suppress wracking coughs, and Iruka’s face pinches.

“What did you do?” He whispers, carefully assesses Kakashi’s visible wounds as his hands flutter nervously over his lanky body. There are scrapes, scratches and bruises on any and all available skin, most likely from his clumsy trek through the woods.

“I came back—!” Kakashi is cut off as his lungs spasm around more restrained coughs. His jaw clenches shut, his body tensing against what is surely a lot of pain.

Iruka unzips Kakashi’s flak vest. There’s more wounds than Iruka anticipated, most of them wide yet not terribly deep, with blood still spilling from them as Kakashi’s chest rises with harsh, difficult breaths. The edges are bruising out into an oily plum across Kakashi’s fair skin as if they were roughly torn open. Iruka’s panic rises again at the ugly sight Kakashi’s torn chest makes, and there’s an instant where he’s scared that he won’t be able to help. He hunts out the dregs of his training as a field medi-nin; check chakra level, staunch all bleeding wounds, pray a lot. Kakashi tries to pull away as Iruka begins to gather his chakra in his hands.

“Stay still.” Iruka hisses. “I don’t know what— I don’t know if I’m doing this right, but I have to do something. Stay still, please.”

“I sent Pakkun for Sakura, but I wanted to see you—” _one last time_ , goes unsaid as Kakashi coughs again. There’s blood with it this time, staining his teeth and his lips, and Iruka feels his breaths stutter in sympathy as more panic squeezes his guts. He takes a kunai from Kakashi’s thigh holster, using it to rip through his clothes before taking a calming breath and setting to work on Kakashi’s wounds. Kakashi’s chakra is scary low, and Iruka can feel his heartbeat slowing as he works, but he tries to steel himself against the worry fraying his feeble calm. He refocus on pooling chakra in his hands.

“Stay still. I’ve got to— I can’t— stay still, stay still!” Iruka’s voice grows in volume with his frenzied words while he works steadily closing all the wounds covering Kakashi. There’s still blood pooling under Kakashi, and Iruka flips him over to check his back only to find a massive gash running parallel to his spine under his left shoulder blade. Iruka feels tears well up in his eyes as his heart pushes into his throat because Kakashi’s been bleeding from that this whole time and Iruka’s chakra is running low and this situation is becoming more and more desperate with every second. He watches Kakashi’s profile as he starts in on the gash, working from the bottom up to mend slashed muscle and skin as best as he can. When Kakashi’s eye slips shut, his face relaxing from the pained grimace that had pulled it, Iruka’s panic crashes through the damn holding it back. The tears spill over now, streaking fat and messy down his face. His steady chakra fizzles out with his concentration, and Iruka mindlessly calls up as much chakra as he can.

“No! Kakashi! I need you to wake up. You can’t sleep— you can’t sleep now!” Iruka’s voice is hoarse and shrill, now, as helplessness washes over him. He keeps pouring chakra through his palms, and pain starts through his body as his reserves begin to dry up, but he ignores the blatant warning, trying valiantly to continue his work on the wound. His senses train onto a displacement of the air around him, and then there are two small hands prying his own off of Kakashi. His head snaps up, eyes large and watery and pleading as stern green eyes softened with pity meet his own. It’s Sakura, and just past her Tsunade is bending over Kakashi. Iruka watches her move over to Kakashi, stuttering out the damage he had tried to repair to her as her own hands start to glow. Sakura shushes him as his words start to slur into sobs. He forces his bleary eyes to focus on Tsunade as she works, but they’re blurring with tears and weariness. Someone’s saying something like _he’ll be okay, you did well,_ but he can’t keep his eyes open for long enough to figure out who it is.

 

The room is bright and chilly when Iruka wakes. He shivers, and takes note of the clothes on his back not being his own. They’re thin and papery, clearly the reason for his feeling cold. He opens his eyes past a squint after a moment, recognizing the room around him as one of the single rooms in the hospital. Why is he in the hospital?

Iruka tries to lever himself up into a sitting position, but his arms collapse underneath him. He feels awful. His limbs are heavy, movements sluggish and uncoordinated with how his head feels full of cotton, throbbing lazily with the steady beat of his heart. He tries again, and successfully sits straight this time. He swings his legs off the bed one at a time, taking extra care getting out of bed for fear of injuries he doesn’t remember getting. His body doesn’t ache, but the throbbing in his head traces down his spine, merging into an awful leaden feeling. He falls clumsily back onto the bed when he tries to stand, his legs refusing to support him like his arms had. Iruka dully recognizes the symptoms of chakra depletion, but he can’t remember being on a mission that could’ve caused this; he hasn’t felt this since he first became a chunin and started taking C and B rank missions. The door rattles in it’s frame just as he’s trying to pick himself up onto uncoordinated legs again. When the door shoves open he sees Sakura standing there, patiently filling out something on a clipboard while muttering about sticky, old doors. 

“Sakura-san?” He croaks. Her head whips up, a smile sliding across her features. She strides towards him, settling a firm hand on his shoulder to push him effortlessly back down when he tries to get up again.

“Iruka-sensei. I’m glad you’ve woken, but I really think you should lay back down. You burned most of your chakra trying to heal Kakashi-sensei.”

Iruka grimaces, leaning forward into Sakura with an unexpected, dizzying wash of memories. A familiar chakra signature, Kakashi falling in his apartment, Kakashi’s wounds, Kakashi’s blood, Kakashi—

“What happened to him?” Iruka blurts into her shoulder then promptly flushes when Sakura pushes him back to eye him. She keeps her hand on his shoulder, partially bracing and partially comforting, as she squeezes.“I’m sorry, Sakura-san, I…” 

“It’s fine.” She gives him a small smile before continuing in a much more serious tone. “He’ll recover. He only needs a lot of bedrest to replenish his chakra and energy, thanks to you. There was a poison in his system which proved… difficult, but you did extremely well in healing his more serious wounds before we got there. You’re chakra control is amazing, and Tsunade-sama told me that if you had had formal training, you would’ve made a brilliant medi-nin.”

Iruka flushes lightly at the compliment, nose wrinkling lightly as he steers the conversation back to Kakashi, “Can I— can I see him?”

Sakura nods, offering an arm for Iruka to take. He does without hesitation, and she takes his weight easily as they make their way from the room. It’s a short walk, but Iruka’s tired body makes it feel plenty longer. Kakashi is lying in the same meager hospital clothes that Iruka’s wearing with the sheet tucked attentively around his hips and waist. There’s a ventilator off to the side, and Iruka find his breaths thinning at the sight even though Kakashi’s breathing easily on his own. There’s a hospital mask stretched over the bottom half of his face. His features are soft with sleep, but the bags under his eyes are darkened like a bruise, his skin is still too white for Iruka’s liking, though there is more color there than Iruka remembers. Sakura pulls a chair beside the bed for him, and he takes it graciously. 

Sakura waits for a moment like she’s going to say something, but she leaves the room on silent feet. Iruka watches Kakashi’s chest rise and fall, fear still firmly rooted in the bottoms of his lungs. Iruka’s hand brushes Kakashi’s and he snatches it back. When had he reached for Kakashi’s hand? Iruka glances up at Kakashi’s face and the bruising on his arms, and can’t find it in himself to care; he just needs to touch him.

He reaches forward, slipping his hand over Kakashi’s, and gripping tight around limp fingers. Iruka finds a comfort in the contact, and lets his head hang forward, weariness seeping sluggishly into his awareness now that he can feel that Kakashi is okay, that Kakashi is safe. Iruka sits for a long time, holding tightly onto Kakashi’s hand, and breathing through slowly abating fear as sand whispers in the hourglass by the window. He glances up, and a flash of a memory of Kakashi’s torso gaping with wounds, blood smeared over pale lips, makes him flinch. He could have lost Kakashi. God, he could’ve lost Kakashi, and he hadn’t even gotten to respond.

Iruka lets out a shuddering breath, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

“Don’t cry because of me.”

Iruka’s head whips up, tiredness leaving him, “Kakashi…?” The jounin doesn’t open his eye more than a smidgen, but he carefully turns his hand over to thread their fingers together, and squeeze gingerly. Iruka automatically returns the squeeze as he exhales a weak breath, a few tears spilling over.

“I came back to you, you can’t cry over me.” Kakashi croaks, coughing roughly.

“They’re happy tears, can’t you tell? And shut up before you hurt yourself worse.” Iruka sits forward, laying his free hand on Kakashi’s sternum. “You said a week. It’s been three, Kakashi.”

“Iruka…”

“I was worried. I was so worried.”

“Iruka.”

“God, I would punch you if you weren’t already injured.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“God, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Kakashi jerks in surprise, but Iruka doesn’t lower his voice or let go of his hand. “You… You! You just— ugh! You come to my apartment after a fucking ANBU mission— I didn’t even know you were still active —and then you tell me you’re tired of me. And— and you avoid me for a fucking month, leave me to fucking cry myself to sleep over what the fuck I did wrong. And then you— you fucking come back, and you don’t— don’t even apologize; you just talk about how you didn’t mean it, and how you need me. And, of course, I go with it because what am if not weak when it comes to you and fucking— affection and feelings and ugh! And, and, and then you say you love me, but then you’re gone on a mission before we can even talk about it. And I am just left at home like some useless spouse waiting for you come back, and you do, and you’re half fucking dead, and dying in my arms—” his voice chokes and dies at the thought, hand clasping frantically tight around Kakashi’s until he can feel the bones creak under his grip, “and now you’re just holding my hand like we’re fine, and apologizing after almost dying like it’s just a joke that you could’ve, that you almost, almost— ” Iruka breaks into harsh huffs and hiccups that sound suspiciously like stifled sobs at this point. His face is flushed hot with anger and hurt, and he can’t gather his jumbled thoughts enough to continue his rant. 

Kakashi’s tug is weak, but insistent on Iruka’s hand then. He starts pulling and keeps pulling until Iruka is standing awkwardly leaned over him. Iruka hunches closer reflexively, only noticing the salty tears trickling from his eyes when he sees them splatter onto Kakashi’s cheeks, and the thin paper hospital mask. Iruka watches as Kakashi exaggerates his respirations, encouraging Iruka to mimic them without saying anything. He does, keeping time with Kakashi until they sync into a slow rhythm. Iruka lets the fury slough off his shoulders in increments until he is sagging farther towards Kakashi, but only under the weight of sadness and relief. Kakashi’s hand comes up to tangle in the loose locks hanging around his face while Iruka’s braces on the pillow under Kakashi’s head, body drooping until their foreheads press flush.

Kakashi’s voice is the barest whisper in the quiet of the room, “I know I hurt you, and I— I didn’t— I’m not… I don’t know how to…” Kakashi’s lips purse in frustration. His words are deliberate when he speaks again, “After my last mission, you asked why I came to your apartment. It’s because at some point I stopped thinking of you as a fuck buddy and started thinking of you as home.”

“Home?”

“You are… warm and safe and important, and what I feel for you is… more than I know how to handle so I tried to cut ties, make you hate me by saying things I didn’t mean. I’m… so sorry for that.”

Iruka is silent, eyes closed now as he thinks about what Kakashi has said. He can feel the skin of Kakashi’s brow wrinkling against his own as the quiet grew longer between them. 

Kakashi hesitates, “I— I should’ve died on this mission.” Iruka sucks in a breath.

“What do you mean?”

“It was assigned to me because the mortality was unreasonable high.”

Iruka clicks his tongue, like he wants to reprimand Kakashi, but he doesn’t. He just sighs,“Why didn’t you?”

“You asked me to come back.”

“Yeah, so we could talk about our feelings, which we really haven’t done.”

“I’m not very practiced at talking about my feelings. The only one I really talk to is Gai, and he’s intuitive enough that I typically don’t have to say much about all that. But I really do think I love you, if it means anything.” Iruka averts his eyes at that because Kakashi’s voice has that same raw quality it did before he left and his gaze isn’t wavering at all, and Iruka can’t deal with that right now.

“It does mean something, but I need to know what you want from this, from us?” Iruka eventually says. 

“Well, I didn’t really think I’d get this far. I was banking on having really great sex one last time and then dying, but then it got emotional and,” he sighs, pursing his lips. “If you feel the same I would like to make us official.”

“Official as in?” 

“Tell the kids.”

And Iruka snorts at that.”Okay. We can do that. We’re still not _really_ okay yet, but this is a good start. Also, if you ever say shit like that to me again, I will not hesitate to kick your ass.” 

Kakashi’s eye curves, the skin around it pinching in thin laugh lines as he hums a little pleased note, and Iruka finds himself returning the smile. Iruka brings their joined hands up to drag Kakashi’s temporary mask down over his chin. He tilts his head so their lips brush just lightly, and the hand tangled in his hair guides him to deepen the kiss just a bit. As a tongue slides over the seam of his lips, the door to the room slides open. Iruka startles, and tries to pull away, but Kakashi holds him there for a moment longer. A soft gasp sounds behind them then audible footsteps as two more bodies enter the room.

“Sakura, what are y— Huh!?”

Kakashi finally extricates his hand from Iruka’s hair to fix his mask, allowing Iruka to stand straight and turn towards the others. He awkwardly clears his throat, one hand clasping Kakashi’s while the other comes up to scratch his scar bashfully under the stares of the three ninja. Naruto is gaping like a fish, eyes flickering between Iruka and Kakashi in disbelief while Sakura has a look of soft, starry-eyed happiness on her face. Tsunade is standing behind them both, smirking like she just hit the jackpot. 

“I-Iruka-sensei! What—?” Naruto gestures helplessly between the two of them. 

“Ah, well,” Iruka’s not sure what to say.

“Iruka and I have been… seeing each other for some months.” Kakashi says.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” Iruka adds. Naruto’s mouth has stopped yawing uselessly, but his eyes still dart between them. He watches them closely, his eyes stopping on their laced hands more than once. He eventually meets Iruka’s eyes unflinchingly. 

“Is he the reason you were so upset before?” Iruka is struck in that moment by how, regardless of the oblivious, headstrong personality Naruto displays, he’s not by any mean dumb. And he’s much more observant than Iruka has given him credit for. 

“Yes, but we talked.”

“And you’re okay now?” Naruto asks, gaze hardening into a glare as it comes to rest on Kakashi.

“I am. We’re okay now.” Iruka squares his shoulders against the unsurety welling in his gut. He doesn’t know what he’ll do in the long run if Naruto doesn’t approve, but for now he’s not going to let Kakashi go.

Naruto nods once, “Okay.” 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Iruka can’t help the way he deflates with a sigh of relief. Kakashi’s hand around his gives a reassuring squeeze. 

“Well,” Sakura says, dispelling the rest of the strange tension. “Congratulations, Iruka-sensei, Kakashi sensei.”

“Yeah, congrats, brat. You managed to get your shit together, and finally bag a good one.” Tsunade shoulders between Naruto and Sakura to stand next to Iruka. She hovers one hand over Kakashi’s forehead and the other over his gut. Kakashi relaxes as much as possible, but the tension doesn’t entirely drain from him; his face stays grimaced like he’s expecting pain. “We’ve healed the majority of the damage. I would like to keep you here until you are fully healed, but I know that you would escape at the earliest opportunity. The poison has left your system entirely, so I don’t even have a halfway decent excuse to keep you. But,” she turns to look down at Iruka now, “you have a boyfriend to keep you in line now. I’m discharging him, but he’s on a week’s bedrest. No strenuous activity.”

“Yeah, okay.” Kakashi rasps, relaxing fully into the bed when Tsunade withdraws her hands. Iruka frowns at him, making a soft _tsk_.

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.” He amends. Iruka nods his head once in approval, though Tsunade just slackly waves her hand at the formality. The room is quiet then, and when Iruka lets out another relieved breath he feels suddenly weak. His legs wobble under his weight, and he falls unceremoniously into Tsunade’s arms. He starts to stutter out an apology, but Tsunade hushes him. He feels her hands chill with healing chakra where they’re cupped over his ribs. He lets himself rest into her a bit as she examines him. Her shoulder is soft, and it feels so nice to relax into. 

“You should be sleeping right now; your chakra is still really low.” Iruka nods his head into her shoulder, turning his cheek against it so his neck is at a more comfortable angle. His eyes begin to slump closed, and after the first few attempts to stop them he gives up. Tsunade is speaking again, but her voice is lower now, and he can hear it vibrating under his ear then he’s being moved, and her voice is too far away to make out, but whoever he’s lying against now is like a furnace under him so he snuggles a little closer. He feels lips press over his forehead just before he drops into unconsciousness. 

( _Three Years Later_ )

Iruka wakes, and he doesn’t have a hangover, but a welcome sight greets him when he finally opens his eyes; pale lashes fanned over fair skin, perpetually messy, silver locks, and pink lips parted around too big teeth. Iruka smiles to himself, scooching closer so he can nudge Kakashi’s narrow nose with his own. Long lashes flutters briefly before Kakashi’s eyes snap open, and a sleepy, indulgent smile graces his lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Iruka starts.

“About what?”

“You should move in.”

Kakashi’s eye widens fractionally, “That’s a little sudden.”

“I disagree. You haven’t slept in your own apartment in nearly two years. You help me buy groceries, you cook, you clean, our ninken hang out here after mission instead of leaving. Your chakra can unlock the seals on the doors and windows just like Naruto’s. You’re already living with me, it’s just not on any of the official papers.” Kakashi’s eye widens further with surprise and realization. His mouth is hanging open, and it’s too tempting for Iruka to ignore. He props himself over Kakashi so he can chaste a smooch on his cheek as a warning then tilts down to press their lips together.

Kakashi returns the kiss eagerly, tongue insistent as it delves into Iruka’s smile. They part with their breaths just a little deeper. Iruka turns his nose against the apple of Kakashi’s cheek.

“So?” He prompts tenderly.

“I don’t know. I still have things in my apartment.”

“Your _Icha Icha_ collection?”

“And my ANBU gear. You technically don’t know about that.”

Iruka rolls his eyes, “I’ve basically already got S rank clearance, the only reason it’s not official is because Tsunade keeps losing the form.” Iruka gives Kakashi a knowing look as he emphasizes the word losing. 

“That’s still paperwork.”

“Yes, but your perfect boyfriend is willing to fill it out for you.” Iruka snarks.

“Hm, that is a good point.” Kakashi purses his lips as if in thought. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I guess I’ll move in with you.” Iruka laughs lightly, grinning as he leaves thankful kisses all over any part of Kakashi he can reach. “Okay, okay.” Kakashi tongues into Iruka’s mouth again, but quickly pulls back when a thought occurs to him.

“You said our ninken.”

“Mhm, and?”

“They’re still _my_ summons, how did they become _ours_? I know they hang around here when I need to let them out for a while, but—”

“Who feeds and bathes them?”

Kakashi’s voice is begrudging, “You.”

“Mhm, and who do they listen to?”

“You.”

“Mhm, and who do they keep asking you to add to the summoning scroll?”

“You.” 

“Exactly.”

Kakashi pouts at Iruka’s exceedingly smug expression. He huffs, letting his arms plop onto the bed sheets. “Well, we might as well do that then.”

“Do what?” Iruka asks, laying sweet, ticklish smooches over Kakashi’s bare collarbones. 

“Get married.”

Iruka doesn’t choke on his tongue like his body wants him to, instead he just shifts back to glare at Kakashi. “Not funny.”

“Not a joke, I can only add you to the Hatake summoning scroll after we’re married. The ninken know that, too.” He says. Iruka stares at him, eye slowly widening from narrow suspicion as Kakashi bashfully refuses to meet his eyes. 

“Well,”

“It’s just something to think about. I don’t expect an answer or anything.”

A gentle smile curves Iruka’s lips, “I can’t give you an answer if you haven’t asked me a question.” Kakashi finds himself reflecting that smile. 

“Marry me?”

“I guess I’ll marry you.” Kakashi surges up from under him, rolling them so he can splatter messy kisses on every piece of available skin, and it’s Iruka’s turn to laugh and swat away the ticklish nibbles.


End file.
